"You should know that the letter contained only a conventional message," he said.
Millar looked at Olga, and his smile grew broad as she hung her head and blushed. Who should know better than he the confession which she had written and which was now destroyed?
"It was quite conventional, I am sure," he said cynically.
"You will miss your train," Karl said with studied insolence. "Heinrich, help the doctor on with his coat."
"A thousand thanks," the imperturbable Millar said. "Madam, good-by. And once more I beg a thousand pardons."
Neither Olga nor Karl spoke to him as he walked to the door, looked back at them, bowed low again and chuckled as the door closed after him.
Olga turned quickly to Karl and held out her hands.
"He is gone. I am glad. But, Karl, I would have given a year of my life if he had delivered my letter to you."
"Why? Tell me what you wrote," he asked eagerly.
"I wrote all the things I told you a few moments ago, Karl. You know it all now."